You're across the street from a row of white buses in Ramallah, not one of them with a sign you can read, and a driver is leaning out his window shouting a name you half-recognize. Which one is yours? You ask. That's the whole skill. The bus runs on maybe a dozen words, and once they're in your mouth, that row of buses stops being a guessing game.
Where you wait: the mawqaf and the ma7aTTa
Two words cover where you stand. A mawqaf is the bus stop, the spot on the shaare3 (street) where the bus actually pulls in. Often there's no shelter and no sign, just a corner everyone knows. A ma7aTTa is bigger: the station or depot where lines start, where the buses and the shared taxis all park together.
The first thing out of your mouth is usually ween il-mawqaf? (where's the bus stop?). There's no word for "is" in there. It's literally "where the-stop?", and that gap is completely normal in Palestinian.
In the city, the q in mawqaf usually softens to a little catch in the throat, so you'll hear maw'af as much as mawqaf. Same word. It's the same q that goes missing all over urban speech.
And if you'd rather ask a person than hunt for the corner, point and ask the way: ween iT-Tareeq? (where's the way?).
Bus, car, train: what to call it
| English | Palestinian |
|---|---|
| bus | baaS |
| car | sayyaara |
| train | treen |
| driver | shoofeer |
| bus stop | mawqaf |
| station | ma7aTTa |
baaS is a borrowed word wearing Arabic clothes, which is why it takes il- and grows an Arabic plural (baaSaat). Don't expect to use treen much in the West Bank. There's barely any passenger rail to ride. The bus and the shared taxi, the servees, do almost all the work, so those are the words that earn their keep.
Asking the driver if it's your bus
When a bus pulls up, you don't need a ticket window or an app. You lean toward the shoofeer and ask if he's going your way: haada biroo7 3a-l-balad? (does this go into town?). Swap in wherever you're headed, Nablus, Hebron, the university, the camp.
If it's your bus, he'll wave you on or just say irkab (get on). If it isn't, you'll get a quick la', it-taani (no, the next one) and a nod down the line.
Climbing on, and getting off
The verb for getting into anything you ride is rikeb. Car, bus, train, a friend's motorbike, same word. To say you want on, you hang the my/your/his endings onto (I want) and add the bare verb: biddi arkab (I want to get on). The i in rikeb shifts to an a in arkab, which trips people up the first few times. More on biddi here.
Getting off is the mirror image. The verb is nizel (to go down, to get off). As your corner comes up, you catch the driver's eye and say biddi anzil hown (I want to get off here), or just tell him waqqef , law sama7t (stop here, please). On a longer ride you might say it-taani, meaning the next stop, and point ahead.
A small thing that matters: say it a beat early. Drivers can't always pull over the second you speak, so give the corner before yours.
What it costs
You pay the shoofeer in cash, sometimes as you climb on, sometimes as you step off, and on the servees you often pass it up the row of seats hand to hand. If you don't know the fare, qaddeesh? (how much?) covers it. Counting it out in shekels gets its own guide.
A two-minute ride, start to finish
Here's the whole thing strung together. You spot the row of buses and ask a guy nearby ween il-mawqaf? A bus rolls in, you lean toward the driver and try haada biroo7 3a-l-balad? He nods, says irkab, and you climb on. Three streets from your place you catch his eye and say biddi anzil hown. He pulls over. You hand him the fare, say shukran, and you're back on the pavement.
